All I Have to Give
by Shalla Bal
Summary: Francis may have a kingdom and a preordained destiny to offer Mary, but all Bash has to give is his heart. Mary, disenchanted with Francis and jealous over Bash's new closeness to Kenna, realizes she loves Bash still. Is it too late? Mash! Also, my new favorite type of voluntary anachronism: Reign fanfic! I do not own the show or characters.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Mary, Queen of Scots let her eyes travel around the throne room, intelligently taking in and assessing all of the intricately unfolding drama that surrounded her, today as always. The King was cavorting absurdly with Penelope whilst Catherine schemed with some informants in a corner. Greer sat tapping one foot absentmindedly as she doubtless internally struggled with Leith's troubles, caught between love and the pressures of expectations, and smothered by perhaps unfair guilt - all feelings with which Mary could not only sympathize. In fact, she quite understood them on an intimate, near constant level.

Lola strolled with her new fiancé, content at last. Mary wished she could share in that sense of resolution to the entire situation of Lola's pregnancy, but she feared she never would. Every day that Lola's stomach and the babe within grew, there would come fresh reminders of her own failure to become pregnant with Francis' child. Worse still, Mary felt pummeled by the realization that Francis had never been, and perhaps never _could_ be, entirely her own. He'd fallen into comfortable lust with so many others. No, his trysts may not have always been love affairs, but they were numerous and intimidating specters that, in her mind, stood between herself and her husband.

Olivia was back at court now, albeit under the watchful eye of Nostradamus, and in Mary's perception, quickly attached to the heart of the court prophet as well. She was hardly a threat to Mary's marriage, and Lola had moved on. Yet Mary didn't care to watch Francis whenever he lightly conversed with these two. Delicate, courtly, and romantically devoted as he was in all interactions with her, Mary knew there was another side to Francis, one less gentle and more animalistic. It was the part of him that Lola and Olivia, due to their non-royal statuses, had possessed and enjoyed, the same passion of which her marriage bed was bereft. He simply compartmentalized Mary by idealizing her, and all of these factors were combining to wear on her nerves exceedingly.

But compared to what she saw next and how it hit her heart, how it stung her to her very soul... Francis and his dichotomous nature...his...women? They meant little or nothing at all to her. Mary's warm, earnest brown eyes had caught upon the sight of Bash entering the room and sitting immediately beside Kenna, who had been trying to soothe Greer's woes. The air of solicitude which Bash had lately been wont to show Kenna, the kind attitude of friendship and support, bothered Mary when they truly should not.

_What is wrong with me_? Mary could not understand her feelings on the matter. But that was because she did not want to.

Didn't she want her two friends (though Bash had once been much more, and their attempt to remain friends was shaky at best) to find happiness in their enforced marriage? Of course she wished to see them both as comfortable and established in shared felicity as was possible. So why couldn't she stop staring at Bash as he laughed over a book he and Kenna were examining? His fine figure and endlessly handsome face, with those long eyelashes and that kissable mouth...why did they so relentlessly fill her mind's eye these days even in his absence? Before his marriage to Kenna, Mary had been able to shrug off the memories of those blissful days spent engaged to Bash, in Francis' imposed absence. She had dismissed them as remnants of a relationship which was not meant to be and _could_ not be.

She had convinced herself that her love for Francis outweighed her feelings for Bash. After all, she had seen Francis as her destiny from her childhood, and they were surely soul-mates...were they not? She was made to rule, and Francis had been fashioned by God Himself to rule by her side.

All of these considerations, and her relief at the prophecy's being overturned, had helped Mary to embrace marriage with Francis and sink back into her previous infatuation with him. Now, however, she fought day and night to drown her terrified suspicions that she'd allowed preconceived notions and a girlish love, along with her powerful sense of duty to her country, to draw her into this marriage with Francis.

She knew in her heart of hearts that when she had fallen in love with Bash, she had matured into a woman, and that their earthly, honest connection, unfettered by the artificial constructs of this world, was true. It would not have melted into a mess of confusion with the lightest touch of trouble, as she feared could happen with Francis. It would have held strong. But that only could have happened if Mary and Bash had not been _themselves. _Oh, heavens. Whatever was she to do?

Bash glanced up then and noticed Mary's intent gaze on him. She let her eyes rest on him a moment longer, yearning to know his feelings. But polite though his features remained, she saw the flash of bitter resolve to love her no more that seemed to characterize his attitude towards her of late. And it hurt her inexpressibly.

That evening, she lay beside Francis after a tepid encounter. He slept soundly enough, oblivious to her confused and distracted state. Unable to bear the unceasing barrage of questions that filled her mind, Mary quietly threw off the lavish, heavy bedcovers and slid from their repose.

She wandered the palace halls listlessly, taking some comfort at least in the hollowed-out silence that filled the air. Then the low sound of a footfall caught her ear, almost making Mary jump with its suddenness. She prayed it wasn't the mad King...or Francis for that matter, given her mood. When she saw Bash come around the corner in his nightclothes and robe, a candle in one hand, Mary's breath caught and her heart leaped. Out of everyone who might have been her fellow wanderer this night, it was Bash.

"Mary," he said, startled. "What are you doing here?" Seeing her look of dismay at his reaction, he added, "Forgive me. I don't mean to imply it's an unpleasant surprise."

"Isn't it?" She asked, her eyes brimming with unspoken words. "What have I done that you should feel otherwise?" She broke off their eye contact and went into an adjacent sitting room, aware that he followed her.

"Mary," Bash said in a heartfelt tone, "what's become of my life is not your fault. It's entirely my father's doing."

"Is it?" Mary inquired, placing her own candle on a table and sitting down, her white nightgown flouncing out around her. "It was I who went back on my promise to wed you."

"Yes," Bash allowed gently, "but you had to follow your heart first and foremost. I understand that. No, it was not you who forced me to watch...the consummation -" here his voice broke, and Mary was seized by grief and regret. He resumed, "and it was not you who tried to have me killed and then made me marry a woman I barely knew. That was all Henry."

"You don't seem as unhappy of late," Mary suggested. "Life with Kenna seems to suit you."

Could he hear the jealousy in her voice? A new light seemed to blaze in his eyes as he took her in.

"We're fast friends," Bash said, "which has been a help. But am I happy? Certainly not. Only one woman could have made me happy, and she is out of my reach forever."

Mary felt her face flame up and tears spring into her eyes as she stood to take Bash's hand, staring at him imploringly. "Not forever, Bash...please, don't say that."

"Mary," Bash whispered as shock registered in his face. "Do you love me still?"

"What would you do if I said yes?" Mary asked, breathing new life as his hand gripped hers warmly.

"What _wouldn't_ I do?" Bash answered unhesitatingly.

The emotional proximity between them was overwhelming, and Mary lost her nerve all at once. "I must go," she resolved, prying her hand loose and running full-force from the room.

If only it were as easy to run from her true feelings.

Now that Bash understood them, Mary feared what would transpire even as she longed for their next encounter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

It became a quiet, mutually accepted custom, these late-night meetings in the study. Though she and Bash had yet to act upon their yearnings for one another, Mary found herself impatient with the long days that seemed to drag on eternally before night and Francis' deep, blinding sleep again released her to the one pleasure she had in her otherwise strained life. She hated herself for deceiving Francis, but could do nothing to hold back from the magnetic draw that Bash had over her. It was a thrall, one she gladly submitted to against her worst self-criticisms.

She sat with her back against one of the soft, velvet-covered chairs, close by the warm fire that sent shadows flickering over Bash's thoughtful features as he regarded her. They'd spent hours talking quietly about life, dreams, family, hopes...but they hadn't really confronted the great obstacles that lay between them.

"You've been with her, haven't you?" Mary asked, unable to stem the tide of her curiosity a second longer. It was masochistic, this need she had to know all about his relationship with Kenna, when it was her fault it even existed.

Bash started and avoided her searching eyes, looking equally embarrassed and rueful. "Mary, I hardly know how to answer that..."

"With the truth," Mary demanded gently. "I know how utterly inappropriate it is of me to ask, but I must."

"Then, yes," Bash answered, "I have been with Kenna. We had been trying to make our marriage work, in earnest. I had no idea, certainly, that your feelings for me remained. I thought you and Francis had found a true love that eclipsed that which you and I shared during that short, precious bit of time we had together. Do you expect me to apologize?" As his honest, soft eyes bore into her, Mary's cheeks flushed. There were so many conflicting emotions in his gaze. Love. Resentment. Pride. Regret.

"Of course not," Mary answered him truly. "I see myself for the hypocrite that I am, believe me."

"Mary," Bash said, breaking in an impetuous instant the unspoken vow they'd forged not to cross any lines together physically. He took both her hands in his own and moved closer, dangerously close. "You're no hypocrite. Haven't you confessed to me your innermost secrets, despite all the reasons why you might have smothered those thoughts forever? I'm grateful. And you must know that I haven't been to bed with Kenna since I found out you still cared for me."

"Good heavens," Mary breathed, mortified. "I am not sure I wish to exude such power over another woman's marriage...her marriage bed...especially when it is my _friend_. We are surely mad."

"What alternative has life presented us?" Bash asked. Still, he did not rail against her for rejecting him and running back to Francis, the mistake that had damned them both. He was man enough to understand why her thoughts and instincts had seemed thoroughly honest at the time. How the churning storm of this crazed existence had hoodwinked her, concealing the depth of her love for Bash until she had married the wrong man and he the wrong woman. Then it was all so heart-wrenchingly clear.

"I'm afraid, Bash," she admitted, running her hand over his beautiful face, feeling the gentle friction of his light beard.

"The great Mary Stuart, _afraid_?" Bash murmured, enticing yet soothing. "I don't believe it."

"No one else in this world will ever hear me admit it," she told him intensely.

The barely-repressed passion between them blazed up uncontrollably then, as his lips captured hers in a kiss that soon unraveled from sweet and tentative to bold and demanding. In remembering the embraces they had shared in the past, Mary realized with shock how much they had always held back from each other for a myriad of reasons.

Their first kiss had been the most uncomplicated, strangely enough, because they didn't know they were falling in love until their lips had already met. Mary still waited much longer before she let herself understand that the love did exist. And she only allowed that once she learned that she would have to marry Bash to save Francis. On one level, she had assumed that perhaps God was letting her have what she truly wanted, that in his mercy he had shifted her destiny. Still, she'd fought to keep her feelings for Bash to an appropriately cautious level of affection. Even once they were engaged, she'd kept him somewhat at arm's length.

She thought that the moment she'd really fallen head over heels in love with Sebastian was when, as they witnessed the birth of the pagan child to that poor, doomed woman in the tent, his eyes had caught hers in acknowledgement of the beauty of new life coming into this world. Like the child, their love was born into a place that would fight against it with all it had. And yet his look had told her as clearly as words might have that he dreamed of one day having a family with her. That instead of thinking first of his country, of power, of might, of glory, he thought of her.

With that realization, she'd given herself permission to indulge in his tender assignations, kissing him sweetly but not giving into her inner urgency, the desire that tormented her so intricately. Now, upbraided past the point of further resistance, Mary opened her mouth and felt his hot tongue, let his hands move strong and insistent along her body, moaning as his kisses traveled down her neck and all along the low-cut opening of her nightgown.

"Bash," she whispered, pulling his shirt upwards with a fluid motion that seemed to momentarily astonish him.

"Mary," he breathed, pulling back ever so slightly as she admired his exposed body without hesitation. "We can't do this- not here-"

"Where can we go?" She asked, pulling him down to her, replacing his hands about her waist. She wrapped one of her legs around him and his breath caught. "We're trapped, you and I, thoroughly trapped. Where and when else might we even attempt to grasp at some piece of happiness together?" A tear slid down one of her cheeks and he brushed it away.

"I'm a terrible sinner," Mary said in a sudden sob, throwing her arms around him and hugging him tightly. "I can hardly believe my own actions. How little resistance I give to my darkest temptations."

"That's because you don't really feel our love is wrong," Bash suggested, stroking her hair.

"Perhaps not," Mary agreed. "But is it not wrong, deeply wrong, for us to cave so willingly to inclinations which are forbidden by our holy promises to others? To Francis, who loves me truly. To Kenna, who has come to depend on you more than any other, who has perhaps begun to feel more for you-"

"Than I can ever feel for her," Bash revealed. "I feel warmth for Kenna, and a desire to protect her from a world which has brought her much grief and abuse. Yet I cannot lie to myself about where my heart truly lies. I know that what we want will hurt these cherished others. Yet what can we do?"

"I don't know," Mary sighed, sitting up and laying her head against his chest. "I was hoping you knew."

Bash laughed ironically. "If only it were that easy."

"If only anything could be easy, just for one moment." Mary ran her hand through Bash's hair and pressed another kiss to his lips. "How grateful I would be."

"Perhaps you are right," Bash said then. "If we can only be together here, then each night we will be. I will do what you wish, Mary, and let my soul be damned for my infamy."

"I wish for you not to be killed as a result of my insolent disregard for propriety," Mary told him. "We must continue to think on this matter. Surely we are not doomed to remain ensnared in this predicament forever, imposing though its restraints seem now. In the meantime...I make for Scotland in three days. What if there were a way to allow you to accompany me?"

"Francis would laugh in our faces if we ever suggested such a thing," Bash pointed out.

"Well he might, and I hardly blame him for it," Mary confirmed. "Yet what if the idea came from Henry?"

"Tinkering with the mind of the King, when he is at his present low ebb of mental acuity and frequent tendency for violent outbursts, is a treacherous proposition," Bash said.

"Yet it is also a most advantageous opportunity," Mary posited.

"Mary," Bash's voice was caught halfway between excitement and worry. "Are we making plans to begin an affair?"

"God help me," Mary answered tremulously. "I believe we are."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The voyage to Scotland was harrowing, and not because of the cruel winter's winds that ripped mercilessly across the boat and seemed to rankle Mary's very soul. No, what really made her heart grip as they crossed those seas was the memory of the look in Francis' eyes when he had heard his father's command that Bash must accompany Mary to her country.

True to their plan, Mary had convinced the King that it was the duty of the Master of Horse and Hunt to accompany either of the Queens should they be required to embark on a lengthy journey. Either despite the fact that this made no sense or because of it, Henry had complied merrily, seeming to take no end of continual mirth in the nonsensical title he had granted his illegitimate and much put-upon son.

But Francis caught on to the strangeness of his father's whim and demanded to know where he had concocted such an idea. Henry, by that time, could not remember and simply took full credit for the notion. Yet it was with a suspicious and unsettled look that Francis bid Mary a yet-affectionate and trusting farewell on the docks.

Mary blamed herself bitterly for still running off like this, with Francis and Kenna's feelings at stake and nothing to gain but her and Bash's own selfish bid for a temporary happiness. Whatever comfort they could take from one another in her homeland would doubtless only make it hurt more to part once they returned to France. Yet she knew not how to quell her passionate devotion to Bash, this undeniable need she had to be with him in whatever way was possible.

When they arrived at the castle, Mary's mother glided out to greet her with a typically sly look that instantly annoyed her daughter and made her half-want to turn back around for France at once.

"Well, isn't this an unexpected treat?" Mary de Guise remarked smoothly, enveloping Mary in an overzealous embrace that smacked of insincerity. Mary might wish that she could trust her mother and feel the warmth of true maternal love from her, but all that their relationship had thus far entailed had left her quite cynical on the subject.

"Mother," Mary replied briskly, doing her best to be friendly. "Thank you for this kind welcome. I have returned home to let my people see that they have a Queen, and to breathe in the air of my country once more. It is something I have long wished to do."

"Understandably," her mother replied condescendingly. "And what have we _here_?" Her clever eyes darted across to where Bash stood at some distance behind Mary. Seeing that he was beckoned, he stepped forward and properly acknowledged her.

"You've brought the little bastard," Mary's mother noted. "Poor, melancholy-looking thing that he is. Ah, Sebastian, you've had a hard time of it, I understand, for which I'm quite sorry. But what brings you here with my daughter, now? I should think, my dear-" returning her gaze to Mary - "that you would be doing all you could to bond with the man to whom you are actually married. The one for whom you are meant to produce an heir with some haste. I must confess, I am confused by this circumstance."

"Well, Mother," Mary said, linking her arm through her mother's and leading her inside the castle, "I see no need to discuss these matters in the freezing cold. Let us retire within - I am sure you have prepared some repast for us?"

"Of course," her mother assured her with that same false-seeming smile, leading them to the dining hall where a lavish meal was set out. Servants whipped away their cloaks and a stark silence fell as the door closed behind them. Now it was just Mary, her mother, and Bash, along with the servers. How very awkward.

Mary sat down at the table and one of the servers decanted her some red wine, of which she partook immediately and with some gratitude. "Why don't you sit down, Mother, Bash?"

They both did, and Mary commenced her deception with greater ease than she would have anticipated. Did she have the heart of a liar after all? Had she inherited some natural proclivity for deception from her mother? It chilled her even as she was glad to get away with her words.

"King Henry insisted that Bash accompany me on my journey home," Mary explained, catching Bash's eyes as he sat and lifted his own cup of wine. He looked serious but did not betray the danger of their true situation with regard to each other. "Francis, you see, was unable to come due to his royal duties. And I could wait no longer to see my people, yet the King was unwilling to send me off without a trusted companion. As you have doubtless heard, there have been attempts on my life recently."

"I suppose that makes some twisted sense, particularly as I have heard that King Henry is currently one blackbird short of a pie. Is it true that he is quite deranged these days?" Mary de Guise inquired, a little too amused at the prospect.

"By no means," Mary returned her smile, not giving her the satisfaction of confirming the rumor, and not eager to make the King's orders seem less trustworthy or legitimate.

An hour later, Mary and Bash had been ushered to their separate and quite disparate chambers. Mary rolled her eyes as she unpacked, noticing her mother's overt attempt to keep Mary and Bash as far apart as possible, which ran appropriately contrary to the primary reason for Bash's presence.

She waited for the dark of night to descend before she snuck off to Bash's quarters, cloaked and hidden in the shadows. Mary doubted very much that she had been observed, but in her mother's home, she could never be sure. She knocked lightly upon the door and was instantly admitted.

"Hello," Bash said nervously, taking her hand and dropping the hood of her cloak down.

"Hello," Mary replied, untying the cord and placing her overgarment to one side. The space between them felt painful, every inch of air that there was to it. She unhesitatingly stepped forward to close the breach, taking his face in her hands and kissing him.

Bash sighed into her mouth as their kiss deepened and he removed the pins that held her hair in a delicate upsweep. Her long, brunette locks dropped loose around her shoulders, emphasizing the vulnerability and intimacy of the moment...a sensation that was increased when she felt his hands on the laces that secured her dress in the back.

Her world was spinning as the delicious preciousness of these moments consumed her. Their mutual longing found no satisfaction with every new forbidden gesture between them, but instead they each grew bolder, hungrier. Mary's dress fell away in a luscious heap and she pushed it aside with one foot as Bash drew her down to the bed.

She stared at him, slightly drawing back from his irresistible mouth just long enough to take in his insatiably yearning expression. His shirt was removed within the space of another heartbeat, and as their bodies pressed yet closer, she could feel the press of his urgent desire through the thin material of her white under-dress. "Bash," Mary whispered, a shock of reciprocal arousal going through her as she registered the full reality of what they were doing.

"I love you, Mary," Bash assured her, stroking her cheek and then running his hand through her hair, giving her time to consider before they went any further. "You're everything to me. I've been lost to you since we first met, but that's my fate and I fully accept it. You don't have to do this if the cost is too great for you to bear."

Mary gazed at his much-loved face, his kind, self-sacrificing, intelligent eyes offering his soul to her once again.

"No cost is too much compared to the heartbreak I feel when we are apart," Mary confessed, embracing for the first time the joy and the sin that were inextricably bonded. "I love you, too, Bash, and I want to be with you. Now and forever." With this vow, spoken in a trembling, yet quite certain tone, Mary allowed herself to be drawn further into the passionate fire that blazed between them. In the full expression of their love came more pure, unfathomable delight than she'd ever dreamed was possible.

Instead of running from the irrevocable disaster they were creating, Mary accepted it entirely and without regret. It was her only reality now. And as difficult as it was to believe that she could rush headlong into so grave a sin, it was worse to consider how empty her life would be had she done otherwise.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

As soon as she saw Francis after returning to the French court, Mary knew that he knew. His hurt, angry expression caused her to flinch inwardly as she swallowed back the fear of dealing with him until they could be alone.

Once in their chambers, Francis turned on her, his eyes flashing with accusation. "How long have you been involved with my brother?" She knew he had simply sensed the truth upon her return, and that she had been wrong to think she could ever conceal it from him.

"Francis," Mary got out, fighting back a sob, fraught with regret for the pain she was causing her husband, though unable to regret loving Bash. "I am so terribly sorry."

"In addition to tossing my heart aside like a cheap toy," Francis accused bitterly, "you've also put yourself in grave danger. I'm not so blinded by hurt feelings and crushed pride that I won't try to protect you from my parents. We must ensure that they never know of your betrayal."

"Francis, you can't intend to remain married to me after this," Mary said in surprise, sitting down on the bed and trying to collect herself despite the nerves that knotted themselves in her stomach. "I've been unfaithful, yes, but this reflects a far deeper problem between us."

"I understand all of that!" Francis admitted fiercely, sitting beside her but at a distance. Then his tone softened. "Mary, I've long wished to deny to myself that you love Bash. In truth, I'm almost equally to blame for your indiscretions. In my urgency to gain your heart and secure it in marriage, I rushed right past your real feelings and coerced you by various means I thought were perfectly right. We both fooled ourselves into thinking that a match arranged by divine destiny meant anything in the real world."

"You _knew_ I was in love with Bash?" Mary asked, disbelieving. "Since when?"

"Since I caught the two of you kissing outside the castle that day, not long after you met us again after so many years away. I could see it in both of you after that, constantly, this natural draw between you and Bash that I refused to accept. I hated my brother for capturing your affections so easily as I continually struggled to gain your trust. I knew my only real hold on you was through the sincerity of our friendship and the idealization of our bond that had been imposed upon both of our minds from our earliest memories." Francis ran a hand through his hair and dropped it to his lap, frustrated and despairing.

"Francis, I had no idea. It was never my desire to hurt you."

"I _know_ that, Mary. Don't you think I know all about it? My brother excepted, who in this world knows you better than I do? That's why I love you still. No one could know your utter goodness, despite all of your actions that seem to fly in the face of it, without loving you. The only way that I can protect you now is to maintain our marriage and hope we can produce an heir to secure it, even if the child is…not my own." These last words choked his voice slightly.

"God, how I wish I had simply allowed you to follow your heart's path instead of running back to court when the prophecy was dispelled, eager to claim you once more and throw Bash to the wolves in the bargain," Francis continued. "But I haven't been able to hate my brother for some time now. I let go of the feeling once I saw the ruthless way my father wrecked his life afterwards, and try as I might, even now I cannot revive the feeling. No one deserved to be tortured as he was by the King, and that made me understand the depth of my own affection for Bash despite everything. He is my brother, you are my wife, and _we_ are in a mess."

"Francis, it was within my power as well to confess my true inclinations before we were wed, and prevent this—" she flung her hand out uselessly, searching for a word. "chaos," she finished. "The artificial structures of this royal life we live has distorted my vision so thoroughly that I couldn't recognize my love for Bash until it was already too late to be with him honorably."

"Yes, that has been our downfall," Francis confirmed, turning his eyes to her in resignation. "We are now trapped."

Mary hated the sound of that word, "_trapped_," a word she herself had previously applied to the marriage. It was awful and crushing. Francis did love her, more than she deserved, but Mary knew that their romance had never possessed the fire they wished it had, that spark they had strived in vain to call forth in their union. With another woman more suited to him, Francis could love again and find true happiness. It meant she would never rule France with him, but any compromise would be better than living a lie. She only wished that she could concoct a solution to the other problem: Kenna's feelings for Bash. The idea of seeing her friend's heart wounded was a dreadful and haunting one.

"I think we must ask for an annulment," Mary announced, confidence creeping back into her voice in bits and pieces. "We must end this marriage. I will return to Scotland and take my place as Queen there. You will find another wife, one far more worthy of your devotion than I ever could be."

Francis chuckled darkly. "Mary, you cannot be serious. Even if we were able to obtain an annulment from Rome—"

"We can use my inability to become pregnant as a reason!" Mary suggested, excited to hit upon this line of reasoning. "If I cannot give you heirs, I have forfeited my right to be your wife."

"That is ridiculous," Francis remarked, "though it does have the frenzied genius of true commitment to this plan that makes me think you might prevail after all. Even then, you must know that my father or my mother, or both, would surely have Bash killed, and possibly you as well."

"We must do all of this secretly, and not allow them to know until it is all over," Mary suggested. "And we should find you a new prospect for marriage as soon as possible, to lesson their rage once they learn."

"Mary, it may take me years to find a woman I can esteem enough to wed. Not every well-born woman is…well, _you_." But Francis did not have years to establish a wife and begin having children to make his own future Kingship secure, and they both knew it. The pressure on them to have a child themselves was already considerable. He would be expected to accomplish the task as swiftly as possible.

"Even if you do not eventually marry this new fiancee, at least she can live at court, as I did, and that will keep up appearances, giving you some time to move on." Mary nodded to herself, increasingly sure of this plan as she continued to pile on details.

"No one can deny that you are an expert schemer, and truth be told, I would not mind finding a second bride with a bit less of that propensity," Francis stated bluntly. "But Mary, my mother at the very least would not ever forgive you. She would send assassin after assassin to Scotland until you and Bash were both paid in full for your infamy."

Francis did indeed feel that she was an infamous woman, Mary could tell. His capacity for mercy and recognizing his own part in their dilemma was not endless, impressive as it was. She was, after all, an adulteress. Mary shuddered again at being forced to look at herself from the outside, where the purity of her love for Bash was invisible and the social stigma blazed accusatorially.

"She will do no such thing," Mary predicted, resuming the conversation after this harsh reflection, "because she never liked me and it won't be as hard for her to let me go as you think."

"My mother will never allow you to humiliate me and get away with it. You can't think she will actually go along with this saga of your infertility being the reason for our annulment." Francis' face displayed his belief that Catherine would easily determine the truth despite all their best efforts.

"She very well could," Mary argued, "_if_ we go about it in the right way. She won't want you to have a childless marriage, certainly, and if we find you a new fiancee who perfectly suits her taste, well, we have a real chance. Remember, anyone who is not _me_ will automatically have a certain charm in her eyes. Why don't you leave it up to me?"

"Alright," Francis sighed reluctantly. "We can try to set this plan in motion, _cautiously_. In the meantime, you had best go and tell Bash about our intentions on the matter. But for goodness sake, Mary, you two cannot _be together_ here in the castle. If you were to be caught, I might be able to save you, but there would be no hope for Bash."

Mary nodded her agreement and went to find Bash, ironically taking advantage of the guards all assuming she entered his chambers to converse with Kenna. Again, the thought of her friend's predicament and her own role in it cut her inwardly, but she could see no alternative path. Surely Kenna also did not deserve to go on falling in love with a husband whose own heart yearned for another. "A mess," Francis had called their ordeal. The term seemed weak indeed when Mary considered the enormity of the disaster they were all ensconsed within.

"Mary," Bash said when she came in, astonished at her boldness in coming to him there. He was changing his clothes and wasn't wearing a shirt. Mary blushed, having to stifle her instinctual desire at seeing his perfection at such a moment. She could not touch him here. Mary felt the draw to Bash so overwhelmingly that she might have termed the feeling demonstrative of love-sickness. The symptoms were enough to have brought them both to this place of insane danger, and showed no sign of ever abating.

After informing Bash of the ideas she had developed with Francis, he sat confounded and stared at her questioningly. "You are willing to lose your prospects of ruling France?" his voice expressed his complete shock at the notion.

"Of course," Mary assured him. "Bash, I am a Queen of Scotland and always shall be. That is my true birthright. My chance to rule over so many others beyond that was always just a part of the marriage arrangement my parents made with Francis'. In fact, I would prefer to live in my own country, as I have often lamented feeling so disconnected from it and from my people, whom I love. But most importantly, I won't live a dishonest life where I spend each day pretending not to love you. It's insupportable, and only ruins Francis and Kenna's chances to find love again themselves."

"It's amazing how you can weave together impossibilities until you have created the most beautiful tapestry of solutions," Bash observed, shaking his head. "Mary, I would love nothing more than for this plan to succeed, for all of our sakes. Yet I fear for your safety—"

"Fear not," Mary charged him. "I have never been more committed to seeing something through. There is no room for failure once I have taken on a plan of action with this level of devoted insistence. All that remains is for us to make our moves under the shroud of complete secrecy. That is the key to our success and the path to our ultimate happiness."

"I think you might have a problem with that," a voice chimed in from behind Mary. She squeezed her eyes shut, recognizing immediately that it was Kenna. Her lady in waiting had obviously been listening through the door, which had eased silently open during Mary and Bash's conversation. Now, Kenna stepped boldly into her chambers and crossed her arms as she stared down her husband and her queen.

"That is to say," Kenna continued, "I believe you'll have some trouble maintaining secrecy from the King and Queen of France when you can't even keep me from finding out the truth." Tears of anger and disappointment clung to Kenna's lovely eyelashes as she waited for their reply.

Looking at one another in despair, Mary and Bash struggled to find words to fit this moment.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Mary strode stealthily through the woods, keeping her brisk pace not only to beat off the bitter cold, but also to evade over-indulgence in her currently woeful state of mind. The conversation with Kenna a few days before had been raw in its painful inevitability.

"More the fool I, for allowing my feelings for you to obscure what I already knew before we were_ forcibly_ wed," Kenna had bit out at Bash. "I knew that no woman could ever replace Mary in your heart. But I thought you were really trying to make our marriage something real, something worth believing in and fighting for. Worst of all, I believed you really cared about _me._"

Mary fought back tears of self-hatred and misery as she pulled her blood-red, velvet cloak closer around her face, her breath puffing out in short white clouds before her. After railing quite rightfully against Mary and Bash's every attempt to explain that they had never intended to end up in this position or to ever hurt her, Kenna had also refused to confirm that she would keep their secret.

"You've got a _nerve_," Kenna had remarked spitefully, stepping very close to Mary and glaring at her queen fearlessly. "How can you so shamelessly ask me for a favor right after you grind my heart to dust? Please remove yourself from _my_ chambers."

She was all too right, Mary knew. Kenna had her share of foibles and was no stranger to lustful acts of daring herself, as the former mistress of King Henry. But from that impetuous and self-serving girl she had been months ago, Kenna had since matured into someone far deeper. She had risked her life to help Mary on several occasions. And her developing love for Bash had carried her the rest of the way past some dwindling remnants of her previously shallow ways. How had Kenna been repaid for letting her walls down to bond with Mary and with Bash? Mary wiped her tears away with an uncharacteristically rough motion that showed her brutally self-blaming mental state.

Why was Mary hurtling recklessly through the dark and notoriously dangerous woods, heedless of whatever crazed murderers might lurk in their depths? It was her only path to the small cabin where Bash was spending most of his nights following his fallout from Kenna. While Kenna had maintained a chilly facade of forced friendliness with Bash during the day when before the eyes of the royals, Mary wondered how long she would be willing to do even that. Kenna had forbidden him to set foot in their chambers during evening hours, which spoke her true feelings rather eloquently. Why, despite everything that ought to anchor her to the castle and change her mind about the treacherous path she had set out on in this affair with Bash, was Mary defying those moral impulses, those pangs of guilt even? Mary was incapable of bearing the heartbreak that she felt when away from Bash, and she couldn't help seeking out her only comfort.

"I told you not to come here," Bash admonished Mary as he let her into the cabin. "How do you think I would feel if any harm came to you, either from the dangerous sect of pagans in these parts, or from the consequences of your being discovered by Henry or Catherine?"

"Please, spare me your remonstrances," Mary pleaded a bit drily, taking a seat by the blazing fire and pulling her hood back to reveal reddened eyes and a wan expression. "It should be obvious that I could not stop myself from coming here. The love for you which has long had hold of my heart is hardly going to abate now, simply because the whole world opposes us."

"I don't mean to add to your sorrows _or_ to seem condescending," Bash said quietly, kneeling before her on the rug. "But then, I think you know what I meant by my words, equally as I ought to have held them back upon comprehending your situation."

"I'll forgive you if you'll forgive me," Mary suggested, her lips turning up in a slight smile.

"There's nothing I wouldn't forgive you," Bash murmured, his manner turning rather seductive all of a sudden.

"That's apparent enough," Mary replied, sighing as he laid his head in her lap. She ran her fingers through his hair, relaxing for the first time in days.

"Let's forget about them all tonight," Bash proposed. "Let's imagine our life as it will be when we are far away from all of these troubles. When we are married and living in Scotland."

"When we are home," Mary said, but could not help questioning, "Do you really believe that day will come? That we will survive the oncoming storm?"

"It's all I_ can _believe in," he told her, reaching up to cup her face in his hands, rising slightly as he covered her mouth with his own. All of Mary's exhaustion seemed to evaporate then, especially as she felt him begin to remove her cloak, raising her expectations about all that would so surely follow.

Mary stood and pushed Bash down into the chair opposite her own, sliding onto his lap and pressing her lips to his demandingly. Bash lifted her leg and let his hand trail upward, making her breath catch as his confident attentions rendered her speechless in blissful abandon. She never had to tell Bash what she wanted or needed. He knew instinctively, smoothly embodying all her desires and fulfilling them with an enthusiasm that made her skin tingle deliciously.

Running her fingers along the smooth leather of his pants, Mary aroused him in turn, causing him to gasp. Before long her back was pressed into the soft rug and she was urging him on as they both let go of every self-deprecating stab of guilt that had them each bleeding inwardly as the days of their separation after returning to France had dragged on. As much as they had invested in concealing their relationship from everyone at court, in working to further their plan to ultimately escape into a life together, that was going to take time - a time far too long for them to endure without tasting moments such as this.

Afterwards, as they lay getting their breath back, clinging to one another, Mary said rather suddenly, "it's time for us to find a new fiancee for Francis. Someone to replace me when we are gone."

"You do flit about from topic to topic," Bash laughed fondly, sitting up and drawing her close, wrapping a blanket around both of them as they enjoyed the warmth of the fire.

"I'm serious, Bash," Mary resumed, "this matter must be dealt with. But what can I do? If only Lola wasn't engaged already to Julian."

"What does Lola have about her that makes her a suitable candidate?" Bash asked, confused. "She's not a noble. Why would Henry or Catherine be likely to accept her in your stead?"

"There is another reason," was all that Mary would share. "But as we must look elsewhere, I should begin to send out invitations to visit the castle, to eligible high-born women who are either from overwhelmingly rich and influential families, or who are actually title-bearers themselves."

"Won't the King and Queen find it suspicious that you are gathering all of these ladies around your own husband?" Bash inquired, worried.

"Yes, which is why the timing must be very precise, and why we must have some kind of an excuse as well, for their presence. Perhaps if we organized a large and opulent dance….Henry would love that, and Catherine could do nothing to prevent it. And we could invite all of our chosen ladies and allow Francis to meet them. He only has to like one of them enough to allow her to stay at the castle under the auspices of being his future bride following our annulment. That will be enough to assuage the initial reaction of Henry and Catherine to my departure." Mary spoke more confidently than she could truly feel. She winced, thinking of how brutal their disapproval might prove. Still, this plan was the best she could do for everyone.

"You want to do all of this at a party?" Bash repeated, shaking his head.

"Do you not agree that this is the best way of bringing it all about?" Mary asked.

"Oh, I cannot help but agree," Bash answered, torn between amusement and grim fears for the future, now that they were embarking upon their plan in earnest. "It's perfect."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

***Author's note: **For the purposes of this story, I have altered the timeline so that Lola's pregnancy is not yet physically obvious.*

The party was going quite smoothly, Mary prided herself, despite her frazzled nerves. She watched Francis chatting with a duchess who was quite beautiful. He even laughed a few times and seemed to be relaxing, despite his comment at the beginning of the evening in Mary's ear, "this is going to be truly awkward." Well, in the end, the event wasn't so much awkward as it was contrived, a slightly better outcome. Francis was as good-humored as he could be about it. Across the small sea of gorgeously dressed dancers, Mary caught sight of Catherine, who was staring at her in undisguised curiosity. As always, the Queen's scrutiny was unsettling.

"I'd have thought to see Francis have a dance with his actual wife at least once this evening," Catherine remarked after striding over.

"You certainly shall," Mary assured her, pasting on a smile. "Francis is merely being hospitable to our distinguished guests."

"_Hospitable_?" Catherine repeated disbelievingly. "My dear, that is the tenth stunningly attractive aristocrat that my son has had his arms around tonight. Between the guest-list and the festivities, this entire affair seems like a matchmaking scheme for someone who is already wed. What in heaven's name are you playing at?"

"I'm not playing at anything," Mary replied smoothly. "Your paranoias are getting the best of you."

Soon enough, Catherine's suspicions would be confirmed, and Mary would no longer be able to stave off the consequences. As they spoke, Mary had advocates in Rome approaching the Pope with a secret annulment request on her and Francis' behalf. The entire matter rested upon Mary's inability to become pregnant and provide heirs, which could potentially end the legitimate royal line. She could only pray that this would be a sufficient excuse to procure the much-longed-for release from this marriage. Mary did not really know if she was barren; in fact, in her heart of hearts she somehow doubted it. She felt she was meant to be a mother one day and longed for that time. However, that she hadn't conceived a child during her time with Francis seemed like a sign that the two of them weren't meant to be parents together. Her future, her family, her home...they were all destined to be with Bash.

"Excuse me," Mary said in a clipped tone to Catherine, sliding away to where Lola was standing, watching Francis with a level of interest Mary was surprised by. "Lola, how are you?"

Lola looked up with troubled eyes and said tremulously, "I'm alright. But things have changed for me rather drastically, and in a way that has brought me to come troublesome conclusions."

"How so?" Mary asked, concerned. She slipped her arm through Lola's as they began to stroll around the party.

"Julian was.._.not _Julian," Lola revealed. "He was a fortune hunter who merely took the identity of Lord Julian upon his death. While the man I married did love me, he had to flee to survive. The whole relationship was built upon lies. And as it collapsed around me, all I could think of was what I'd been trying to deny all along as I rushed into that union and then tried so hard to find love within it."

"It's Francis," Mary guessed. "You regret not telling him about the child after all."

"Yes," Lola admitted. "Mary, I am sorry to give you pain and don't mean to offend you after all you've done for me. Of course, I have no designs on Francis and will do nothing to take advantage of-"

"Actually," Mary interrupted. "There's something you should know. My circumstances are altered as well since last we had a real talk. But Lola, there is something I must know, and I beg you not to feel that I will be upset in the least if your answer is yes. Do you have feelings for Francis?"

Lola lowered her eyes, then raised them again. One quality the two women had always shared was the bravery of pride. "Yes. I never would have been with him if I did not."

"Then I believe I know the solution to all of our problems," Mary confided.

From the dance-floor, Francis rolled his eyes as he spun his latest dance partner, who kept stepping on his toes and then laughing loudly about it. Mary gave him a small nod indicating that he should approach her when the song ended.

This particular type of event could not have been better designed to distract King Henry, who was chasing after every pretty young lady with a zeal that seemed to never cease. Perhaps that was another reason for Catherine's grumpy appearance as she sat with her arms crossed in her throne. Kenna had chosen to stay in her room that evening, and Greer was sitting at some distance, quietly chatting with Lord Castleroy.

When Francis reached Mary's side, questions were brimming in his eyes. "I want the two of you to talk," Mary announced to him and Lola, taking each of them by the arm and guiding them outside, as if they all just wanted a bit of fresh air. "Each of you has my full permission to share with the other _everything_ you have kept hidden. Francis, tell Lola of our situation and plans. Lola, confide in Francis the truths that he needs to know..._all _of them." That last bit included the intimation that Lola should not leave Francis in doubt of her affection towards him.

"Very well," Francis said quite slowly, furrowing his brow in some confusion at Mary's pointed words.

"Alright," Lola added a little shakily. Mary clasped her friend's shoulder in encouragement and then left them to talk.

As it fell out, the Pope would allow the annulment only with the agreement of the King and Queen of France...but he_ would_ then grant the release. When Mary showed Bash the letter a few days after the party, which _had_ yielded a marriage prospect for Francis in quite an unexpected way, he shook his head in anxious reproach.

"How are you ever going to get my father and Queen Catherine to sign off on this? Mary, again, I beg you to consider your own safety. There can be no going back from such a step." Bash seemed to know he spoke words of caution in vain, for he added, "Not that I expect you will pay heed to my words."

"I _always _pay heed to your words," Mary said, stepping closer than she strictly should in the palace halls. She forced herself back a little bit, though it pained her. "No one's words carry equal weight with me. But have a bit of confidence, Bash. Show me that fire within your spirit that makes me love you so fiercely. Remember, we have all of our cards laid out perfectly. Francis will marry Lola, who will produce an heir. Her pregnancy is not evidenced as yet, and if we bring the matter about speedily enough-"

"My brother wishes to marry Lola?" Bash inquired.

"Certainly," Mary confirmed. "I believe there was something drawing the two of them together all along, but they kept denying it after the prophecy was dismissed and my marriage to Francis took place. Without my being in their way, it's clear to me that there is real affection between them that may well lead to a rich and deep love such as they both deserve. And Francis is keen to be a father to his child, though he certainly let Lola and I know his thoughts on our having kept the secret from him so long."

"You kept it from me as well, until recently," Bash pointed out. "I only knew that Lola's child was not Lord Julian's, but I little suspected it was my brother's."

"It wasn't my secret to tell, Bash," Mary said softly.

"I understand," Bash replied, "But the world seems to be hurtling forward all of a sudden in ways I never could have anticipated. I wish there was a way for me to protect you from the consequences that may result from this plunge into danger. Instead, however, and let me inform you in no uncertain terms that I desperately want to sweep you into my arms right now and show you exactly how much I mean this, I will do as you ask. I will support you in your every scheme, be by your side the whole way, and be there ready to become your adoring companion far away from all of this squalor of artifice, human drama and complication."

"And I can't tell you how dearly I wish I could be swept into your arms right now," Mary murmured in reply. "I would show you how entirely I am yours, and always shall be."

"Until we meet again," Bash answered devotedly.

It took some time to carry the scheme off. First, Mary had a lengthy conversation with King Henry wherein she explained that an angel had told her in a dream that she was destined to never bear a child. This informative messenger from above had also disclosed that Francis should with all due speed extricate himself from Mary and marry Lola, who was preselected by the heavenly powers to provide the dauphin with many a healthy child. In fact, the angel had added, once Francis and Lola were wed, she would conceive on the very night of their consummation.

Henry, who was obsessive about the royal bloodline and the decrees of the Lord to that end, seemed swayed and deeply motivated by this made-up saga of Mary's prophetic dreams. However, he was at first unable to dismiss the problem of how badly he wanted England, a country he hoped to gain by Mary's taking the throne.

"If you are truly destined to rule England, God will lay another means of obtaining it at your feet," Mary suggested. "There is no question as to His commands as they were sent to me in my dream. Clearly, you are meant to prioritize the continuation of the royal line above all other concerns. For if your heirs are to end with Francis, what future will the country have after his reign? It would fall into the hands of a _stranger,_ some distant cousin or other pretender to the throne. I know you would never allow that."

"_Never_," Henry bit out angrily, blaming Mary in no small part for her supposed infertility. "I just wish God had not waited to long to let me know how utterly useless you really are. Now I have to see my son wed to a mere lady-in-waiting. It's atrocious."

"You won't think so once you hold your first grandchild in your arms," Mary assured him.

"Perhaps," Henry said, coldly dismissive and distracted. "Get out of my sight, you inane former pawn. Go back to your precious Scotland and see how much good it does you. If there's one positive that comes out of this ordeal, it will surely be not having to listen to you complain about my lack of support for that pointless and profitless nation."

"Yes, your majesty," Mary bowed, suppressing a grin.

Once the King's mind was set on the annulment and remarriage, there was nothing Catherine could do to stop it, as her own approval was a mere formality the Pope likely cared little about. Her signature was simply an indication of her having borne witness to Mary's continued inability to conceive. With an almost shockingly simple acquiescence, Catherine set her name to the document before it was sent back to Rome.

But once she could get Mary alone, Catherine's words were scathing. Mary was already packing to leave court post-haste. It had been impossible to bring the plan to fruition without staying this long, but now, it was in everyone's best interest that she made away.

"If you think I will let you slip away from marriage with my son with such a pathetic excuse, you are gravely mistaken," Catherine fumed. "How dare you humiliate and abandon Francis with such callous cruelty? After how dearly you claimed to love him? It nauseates me, especially since I know this is all because you never got over that obnoxious bastard brother of his. Confess, you heartless slut: you plan to reunite with Bash as soon as you land in Scotland, do you not?"

"That's truly none of your affair," Mary remarked cooly. "All you need know is that I have done you one of the greatest favors you may ever receive. First of all, you ought to be aware that Lola is already carrying Francis' child."

Catherine's face turned white, then red, then pink again as she processed this news.

"I, on the other hand, may never provide an heir. Secondly, your hatred for me has been evident from my return to France and throughout my entire stay here. Perhaps somewhere in that iron-clad heart of yours there lingers a fragment of affection for that child you nurtured years ago. But you found it easy enough to side-step those emotions and try to assassinate me all too recently. So thank the heavens for their proclamations that allow you to be rid of me forever."

"You're a delusional maniac," Catherine retorted bitterly. "However, you are right that I'd rather see Francis wed to someone fertile _and_ to a woman who has the good grace not to be you. Having said that, you truly are insane if you think I'll ever believe God decreed all this to be destiny."

"Goodbye, Catherine," Mary said quietly and succinctly as her servants gathered the rest of her belongings and followed her when she exited her now-former chambers.

The Queen said nothing, and Mary wasn't there to see Catherine roll her eyes, ball her fists, release them again, and then shrug in reluctant acceptance that she had been outplayed, but ultimately it might be for the best.

Mary's farewells to Francis and her ladies were far more difficult because she truly loved them.

"Thank you for freeing both of us from a marriage that was only holding us back from real happiness," Francis said, embracing Mary without bitterness. "I didn't want to admit it for so long, but you were right. I hope that you and Bash will be very happy."

Lola smiled and took Mary's hands in her own. "I know this will not be our last meeting," her lady hoped warmly.

"I hope not," Mary replied, "though it is hard to imagine how and when we might meet after all of this. Lola, I charge you to write to me constantly. In fact, I demand it of you both." And she embraced Lola as well, detecting the slight bump that was hidden beneath a cunningly flowing gown. Francis and Lola were to be married that very night, and it would all go forth just as they all needed it to.

Greer took Mary's departure the hardest, assuring her that she and Lord Castleroy would visit Scotland as soon as possible, and that she could hardly wait to be reunited with her Queen. Mary, having glimpsed the situation with the newly-returned Leith, wasn't at all certain it was Castleroy who would accompany Greer on that visit. But she just smiled and told Greer they would be most welcome.

Kenna allowed Mary into her chambers but said not one syllable for several minutes. Mary finally threw her arms up in surrender. "Kenna, I know there is nothing I can do to atone for my wrongs against you. I beg you to at least understand that I never intended-"

"To hurt me," Kenna finished, sighing and paying an unusual amount of attention to a wrinkle in the bed linen that she was smoothing as she sat there avoiding Mary's eyes.

"I know." She finally looked up at Mary quite seriously. "_I know_." There was a modicum of forgiveness there that brought Mary unspeakable solace.

"What will you do? I would gladly bring you with me, but-"

"But I'm hardly going to serve you and watch you enjoy a life with my own former husband," Kenna remarked. She had gone of her own volition to King Henry and begged him to undo the dreadful marriage he had imposed upon her, insisting that she could not stop thinking of Henry himself and his son simply could not measure up to his sexual prowess, which haunted her constantly. Puffed up with pride and kingly powers of mercy, and still infatuated with Kenna, Henry had requested and been granted a second annulment from Rome, ending the marriage between her and Bash.

"Why did you help us?" Mary asked. "You might have prevented Bash and I from ever marrying."

"What was the point?" Kenna explained. "You would have been together anyway, though illicitly. And I would have been denied the chance at another match. As it is, the King has found me another wealthy fiancé, and this time it's one far away from here. I'll be leaving the country myself soon. Despite his lingering weakness for my charms, I've made myself annoying enough to Henry that he'll be glad to see me go. I'll create a new life for myself. I'm sorry I couldn't find the happiness with Bash that I imagined possible." Kenna paused, and the sadness that she still suffered on that account was all too evident in her face.

"But," Kenna resumed, summoning her more typical expression of sassy resilience, "as a consummate survivor, I suppose I can accept a life of luxury and riches, far away from this awful place and all it represents, and be satisfied enough."

With all of these seemingly impossible solutions coming together, Mary left France feeling like a free woman with an endless ocean of opportunities to find peace and contentment laid out before her. Knowing that Bash awaited her in Scotland, she willed the ship onward incessantly in her mind throughout the entire journey. And when she had arrived to the sight of him waiting for her, his blue eyes aglow with welcoming and overwhelming love, Mary felt that somehow, all of the confusion and heartache that they had been through to get there was worth it.


	7. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

**Five years later**

***Author****'****s note: **needless to say, I have discarded any and all connection to historical accuracy in the spirit of fun and fantasy.*

Mary ran down the stairs of the front hall in her Scottish castle, still a child at heart when pure excitement propelled her. She caught herself up at the bottom, remembering to be careful. But today was nothing less than her favorite day of the year, and her face was lit by an irrepressible grin reflective of jubilant anticipation.

Every June, in defiance of the forces that had been devised by the world of royals to drive a wedge between them, the group of friends reunited in Scotland. Francis and Lola. Greer and Leith. Mary and Bash. The marriages that had bound each couple remained sturdy and thoroughly happy, and they all had many stories to fondly unfold to one another about their lives since their last meeting. As they confided these tales to one another in the sitting room, each couple nestled close together, their children played happily around them, increasing their felicity.

Francis, Lola, Greer, and Leith arrived together. Since Francis had granted Leith a title and a place at French court, he and Greer had been able to wed after Lord Castleroy decided to put Lola's happiness before his own by releasing her from their engagement. Greer and Leith's beautiful little blonde boy and girl went bolting full-force into the castle with only the most rapid and thoughtless of greetings to their parents' royal Scottish friend. Mary laughed, admitting the rest of the party as they all embraced affectionately.

Life in Scotland hadn't been smooth for Mary and Bash at first, but after all, this was _her _kingdom and she had the power to arrange her life to make it the way it needed to be. That involved the lengthy process of compelling her mother to stop trying to interfere with her relationship with Bash, and in convincing Mary de Guise finally that Bash was her true and irrefutable love, somehow Mary became closer to her formally cold and elusive mother at last. Deep down, Mary suspected that her mother had come to respect that stubborn, scheming, indefatigable side of herself that so perfectly matched that quality in the woman who had given her life. Now, after five years, an easy, comfortable camaraderie had long since evolved between them, and her mother had even come to begrudgingly like Bash, who, after all, made an excellent quiet joking companion at all stiff and formal royal events.

Mary's happiness at being back among her people, whom she strived ever to keep in peace and safety, was complimented by the bliss of being wed to Bash and having him by her side always. The passion and elation of their love had only grown over time. When their daughter, Antoinette, had arrived two years ago, Bash had held Mary's hand strong and fast, his eyes brimming with loving tears of wonder. The scene brought them both back to the silent promise of that night in the tent years ago, witnessing the birth of the pagan child, when they had first realized they loved one another. In a flash of recognition, Mary and Bash had seen their future in each other's eyes, and they had been right. With a thoroughly feisty disposition, the pretty little Antoinette was certainly her mother's daughter, as Bash never tired of reminding Mary with an exhausted, affectionate, and amused attitude.

Now, Antoinette spun around, holding hands with the flaxen-haired twins Margery and James as they all made themselves dizzy. Soon, they were joined by Francis and Lola's son, who went hurtling past Mary so fast that her skirts went blowing up around her. The children knocked each other over in a merry heap in the exuberance of their reunion.

"Francis, Lola!" Mary greeted her much-missed loved ones, hugging them both in one fell swoop. Bash appeared with Mary de Guise in his trail.

"Oh, is it time for this infernal mess already?" Mary's mother inquired tartly. "How fast the year does go by. You will excuse me, your majesty," She nodded to Francis with a little bow. "And all of you other varied creatures," she said to the rest dismissively before traipsing off to make mischief elsewhere.

"Brother," Bash greeted warmly, clasping Francis' hand in his own. Everyone gathered in the usual room, chatting enthusiastically all in a flurry of news that simply couldn't wait another moment to be shared. They collapsed into their chairs and sofas, a glittering assemblage of lovely young people in the full flush of life. As they partook of a light lunch, Mary was startled in the midst of a giggling frenzy with Greer and Lola by the sight of a guard informing her that there was another visitor at the door.

_Could it be_?, Mary wondered. There was one person, one _friend_, she dared to hope to herself, who had been invited every year to this gathering but had never attended. Suddenly, the realization of the visitor's identity struck her heart with certainty.

"Excuse me," Mary murmured almost to herself, rising and hurrying to the entrance. Sure enough, she saw Kenna standing there waiting for her.

They both burst into tears and threw their arms around each other, so many reasons for their explosion of emotion making them cling to one another, washing away the years of conflicted feelings — guilt, anger, regret, resentment — useless impediments to the affection of true sisterhood that had always bound their hearts.

What made them laugh upon stepping back from each other was the fact that they were both pregnant. "Kenna," Mary said in a half-sob, "I'm so glad you're here."

"So am I," Kenna replied quietly, wiping away a tear and grinning at her own uncharacteristic display of fragility. "Look at us," she grinned, "it's as if we were always meant to meet again right at this time, in this moment."

"We certainly make a lovely matching pair," Mary agreed, touching Kenna's blooming belly lightly. "Kenna," she began, her features growing more serious, "I want to tell you that—"

"Never mind all that," Kenna interrupted, stopping the flow of Mary's apologies and explanations. "I don't care about the past. I'm happy, Mary, truly happy. My husband could not be here because of other commitments, but he's a wonderful man and we love each other truly."

"I'm so glad," Mary breathed, taking Kenna's hands between her own.

"_And_," Kenna added with one of her very best smirks, "Our estate really is quite impressive. I find that the lap of luxury is a good place to live indeed."

"Ah, Kenna," Mary answered with a laugh, "you were always destined for it! And, my dear friend, no one ever was more deserving of contentment and joy."

"Unless it was you," Kenna said, seemingly unable to help herself from indulging in a phrase of such sweetness. "But now, Mary…where_ is_ everyone? I've much to gossip about, as you might imagine, after all of this time."

Mary kept one of Kenna's hands clasped firmly and led her to the sitting room where everyone would share her feelings of exquisite surprise, would understand in the space of an instant what Mary had felt when she had seen Kenna again at last. Mary saw it immediately in Bash's open-hearted, happy face as he gazed lovingly upon his wife when she came back in with their long-lost friend.

Now, gathered as one in the circle of their unbreakable friendships, their beautiful, chaotic, magnificent lives were made complete.


End file.
